


Constellations

by russomaha



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Adorable dorks being oblivious, Bodyguard, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Humor, bodyguard!Caine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russomaha/pseuds/russomaha
Summary: Jupiter discovers she doesn’t need to reach far to find beauty – or a way to shock her long-suffering bodyguard out of his impenetrable stoicism.





	Constellations

Jupiter takes a deep breath of the moist air, saturated with salt and the smell of algae, and stares absently at the turquoise ocean, her bare feet revelling in the sensation of the warm wood of the sunlit terrace. Forget luxurious private residencies the royals have on Earth. As the queen has recently learnt, she has a whole planet for her individual recreation. The planet is small, as far as planets go, but it’s a freaking _planet_. All for herself. She still has trouble wrapping her head around that.

This world happens to be almost completely covered by ocean with only few specks of land scattered around, therefore it was considered unprofitable to have it seeded for future harvests. So it ended up being turned into the royal vacation retreat. Speak of grandeur.

The ceaseless roll of the waves spanning across horizon is soothing and mesmerizing, and Jupiter feels she can watch them forever. Yet her eyes keep drifting off to the naked shoulders of her diligent guard, sitting on the stairs, looking at the ocean and pretending to relax.

She can’t help but wince recalling their earlier interaction.

She’s been outright angry this morning. And that is the reason, not the justification for her thoughtlessness. The two of them have arrived to this tropical paradise just a few hours prior, after Jupiter had a long and heated argument with her Royal Physician, who adamantly insisted that Queen was to take a break from her sixteen-hour-a-day all-week-round schedule. As a neophyte sovereign she had so much to learn and so much to catch up on. She simply didn’t have time to rest. The doctor, however, argued his point in no uncertain terms, “A mad monarch is worse than no monarch, Your Majesty. Go rest, or go insane.” So she – not-so-gracefully – gave in to the inevitable.

The fact that Caine’s routine was even more gruelling and he was now stuck here with her, still doing his job guarding her precious royal rear while she rested, made her feel vaguely guilty. And that riled her up even further. Eventually, it didn’t take much to set her off.

“If I’m forced to have a vacation so I could forget all about my queenly duties, then I won’t have you wearing your Royal Guard uniform to remind me of them,” she huffed, glancing at his black-clad figure, her annoyance having less to do with the sight in front of her – delightful, really – and more with the fact that she had been all but kicked out of her own alcazar.

She barely registered an acquiescent “Your Majesty” before seeing the lycantant remove his jacket with frightening speed, promptly followed by his undershirt. She barely managed to bark a rushed “No!” and halt his movements just as he proceeded onto his pants.

It was a stark reminder that a monarch should be _very_ _careful_ while huffing something out loud.

“Your Majesty?” he was looking at her questioningly, obviously waiting for her to make up her mind already.

As much as the idea of Caine parading around in the nude appealed to her, it was also deeply disturbing. She’s _so_ not following Titus’ footsteps, thank you very much.

“Just – stop, please. I’m sorry for not having explained,” – not that she’d had a chance to. Caine looked genuinely dumbfounded, bordering on spooked. He still wasn’t used to having Queen apologize to him. “What I meant to say,” she was speaking slowly, this time thinking her words through, valiantly avoiding looking at his very unclothed, very distracting torso, “was that we’re going to find you some casual clothes later,” she had to clear her throat, “to change into. _Later_ ,” she repeated, emphasizing the last word, not-so-slightly terrified that he might immediately resume his impromptu stripping.

“Your Majesty,” he murmured, nodding. “In the meantime – ” he started warily, then paused, unsure, “– shall I stay like this?”

“Sure, by all means! I mean, if you’re comfortable,” she added hastily, feeling decidedly _un_ comfortable herself.

That got her a puzzled look. “I am,” Caine confirmed, “it’s pretty hot here.”

Jupiter’s made the mistake of glancing up at him. Oh yes, pretty hot indeed.

“Good. That’s good,” she squeezed, tearing her eyes away, settling to look at the ocean instead, vast and ancient and placid, letting it have its soothing effect on her flustered sensibilities.

And now here she is, hypnotized into unthinkingness by the incessant motion, letting her gaze wander aimlessly over the endless expanse of water, sparsely studded with tiny malachite islands, across the streak of dazzling white sand, until it drifts mindlessly onto Caine’s shoulders, focusing on the pattern on his skin. Freckles, dozens and dozens of ginger specks, varying in shape and size, randomly peppered across the fair skin. They oddly remind her of the constellations she used to admire back on Earth. She hasn’t been looking up at the skies lately, she’s been ruefully busy for that. Well, maybe here she will have time for stargazing once again. This vacation might not be such a bad idea after all.

Meanwhile her eyes keep unconsciously roving the constellations on Caine’s back. The luminance is strangely inversed, as if on a photographic negative: instead of white dots against the black sky, she’s looking at the dark flecks on the unusually pale – almost translucent – skin.

“How come you have freckles?” Jupiter blurts out before she has time to stop herself. Then she’s struck with the realization that she’s been surveying Caine’s nude upper body for far too long, taking inappropriate amount of pleasure in doing so. Clearly, _now_ is the time to get curious. Ugh.

He turns to look at her so quickly she’s afraid he might have a crick in his neck later – nah, no likely, not with those inhuman reflexes of his – eyes wide open, mouth slightly agape. For once, she’s managed to shock him. Not by having all but ordered him to strip earlier, either, but by _taking notice_?

At Caine’s startled expression, she can feel a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up her face. Great, stuff that foot in your mouth, why don’t you? _And_ make your long-suffering bodyguard feel even more uneasy around you, too. It’s not like you’ve done _enough_ damage earlier.

Why does he keep looking at her like that? Is he expecting her to grow a second head? Burst into flames with shame? Take her question back and apologize? Maybe he’s just hoping the ground will engulf her so he won’t have to deal with her and her stupidity anymore.

Finally, Caine speaks. “If I may ask, Your Majesty,” – his tone is carefully calm, but she can hear a certain strain in that calmness, – they probably use that voice to talk down raving nut-cases in loony bins, – “why am I not supposed to have freckles?”

“Well, you know, with you being half-albino and all…” she trails off, gesturing weakly in the general direction of his – glorious – person, trying to look anywhere but his face. “Not that they look bad on you. Because they don’t. Look bad, I mean,” she hears herself mumble, groaning internally. Gods, she never knows when to shut up already. She can’t help but start fidgeting, not knowing what to do with her hands all of the sudden, where to look. Has she forgotten The First Rule of Politics, “Spew whatever nonsense you like, but look confident while doing it”? She _so_ sucks at queening.

“That’s where the “half” part comes in, I guess,” Caine responds, sounding clearly amused now, and she ventures a quick look at him. His face is – once again – dutifully devoid of any expression, but the corners of his mouth are visibly twitching. The air that’s been stuck in her lungs since the beginning of their painfully awkward conversation leaves her chest with an audible huff and she feels herself immediately relax.

Because Caine is _Caine_ , not some freaking Entitled and she doesn’t need to keep her cool around him all the time, controlling her every gesture and every word. She can just let herself _be_ for a while, and isn’t it what a vacation is really about?

–––

She will have to be more sneaky while admiring his freckles from now on, though.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Caine’s freckled shoulders. Obviously.
> 
> Apologies for all of my very probable mistakes. I’ve pushed my English skills over the limit here. But Caine’s freckles deserve no less.


End file.
